


Find My Way

by trirocksalt



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canon, Feels, Feels Train, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Promptis - Freeform, Prompto loves Noctis, Romance, Sadness, Sunshine - Freeform, The ending, it hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 13:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13953048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trirocksalt/pseuds/trirocksalt
Summary: The light never felt so good, knowing the sacrifice Noctis made.  It's the only way Prompto seems to find, to just be kissed by his best friend again.  And that's all he wants.





	Find My Way

**Author's Note:**

> Another one-shot for y'all.
> 
> Honestly, I've been mulling this idea over for a while now, but I didn't really have any idea how I was going to do it, and I didn't have the right inspiration for it, but here it is, finally!!
> 
> I was heavily inspired by a couple of things when I decided to write this thing. I'd been putting off finishing Royal Edition because I knew it was going to be pain, but I finally finished it (As a side, definitely was more pain than I could have ever anticipated, let's be real). The ending scenes between the boys always gets me, and with the additional content in Royal Edition, I had to write on it, plus a little extra. Because damnit, I was a bawling mess.
> 
> I was also inspired by a song I ran into this evening while perusing YouTube, which pushed me into writing this. You guys definitely should give it a listen [here!](https://youtu.be/Oo78yaLDOHs)
> 
> Please enjoy this feelsy one-shot!

The rain pounds hard on the pavement, soaking Prompto right through his uniform, right into his heart, weighing it down into complete heaviness.  He’s staring up at the immaculate towers that is the Citadel, his home away from home for many years, despite having not been here for some time now. It’s shrouded in darkness, in an evil reign that doesn’t belong to it.

 

It took them so long to get here, and right here, right now, Prompto doesn’t want anything else but to take it all back to the start of their journey, where everything had been so easy.  Where the fact isn’t staring him so hard in the face that his best friend - his love - would be stepping through the Citadel doors to his death. It’s all for the greater good, yes, but Prompto feels selfish.

 

He feels lost; the lingering loneliness he’s always felt is stronger now more than ever, and Prompto can’t stop himself from thinking that it’s just not _fair_.

 

All this time, and it ends like this?

 

“There’s no turning back now,” Prompto hears himself saying, numbly, as Noctis begins to make his way up the flights of stairs, toward his fate.  His face is pointing downwards, regretfully, as a pained expression etches into his face. 

 

The clicking of Noctis’ shoes stop short, but Prompto can’t quite lift his head.  Not when he feels so close to tears, to all his emotions ripping through him and tearing him apart.

 

“Prompto,” comes Noctis’ voice. “Gladio.  Ignis.”

 

Blinking back the tears, Prompto finally lifts his gaze to look up at Noctis, seeing that he's turned to face them again.  Despite being utterly drenched in rain, he looks like a king, but also, to Prompto, he looks like his _best friend_.  Just as he did all those years ago, when they were laughing over silly video games, passing notes in class, and just being _kids_  together.

 

“I leave it to you,” Noctis continues, his expression softening.  It takes everything in Prompto not to break apart right then and there.  “Walk tall, my friends.”

 

Prompto could barely hear anything else outside of those words, though maybe Ignis is speaking beside him.  It’s hard to tell, because it feels like Prompto’s world is crashing around him. Instinctively, though, as he’s practiced, he steps his heels together and raises his arm up, forcing himself to bow before his king.  Before his best friend.

 

The rain is beating on his back now, but it feels like a million daggers piercing him, seeping into his heart.  It’s loud, but not as loud as the sounds of his own heart breaking, pounding in his ears, resonating back into his soul, and when Prompto finally rises, he sees a resolute look on Noctis’ face.

 

“The time has come,” Noctis says, and then, with a moment’s hesitation and a slight flicker of his cobalt eyes to meet Prompto’s from across the rainy terrain, turns on his heel and ascends the stairs.

 

In watching Noctis make his way up the stairs, everything floods forward again to the forefront of Prompto’s mind.  All the memories, both good and bad, and the strongest desire to shout out to Noctis, to beg him not to go, fights to come through but it catches in his throat.  Knowing that all this was beyond his own selfish desires stops it, of course, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

 

So, instead, Prompto draws a deep breath and turns, daemons spawning in all shapes and sizes all around the Citadel grounds.  

 

Noctis is counting on his brothers to take care of everything from here, to ensure that when the light finally shines over the horizon, the world would be safe for everyone again.

 

As Noctis slips away now, Prompto delves into the darkness surrounding them.  He’s chasing the desire in Noctis' heart.

 

The daemons are plentiful, quickly swarming and advancing toward them.  There’s no room for error, Prompto decides, as he withdraws his gun. 

 

With Gladio and Iggy at his side, the three of them advance towards the beasts, weapons vaporizing.  Daggers go flying across the expanse between them and the monsters, followed by a massive zap of lightning.  Gladio roars on Prompto’s left, slashing his massive sword through some of the smaller daemons.

 

Prompto hangs back a little to keep his distance, firing his gun in quick rounds.  The power of the Crystal sizzles through him, igniting his veins. It helps to numb the sorrow he feels since it’s much stronger than that of his own emotions.  It gives him focus, and in a way, it makes him feel closer to Noctis now more than ever, knowing that his best friend is lending this power to him.

 

“Prompto!” shouts Gladio.

 

Spinning, Prompto aims his gun for an opening and fires, the bullet whirling through two behemoths.  They topple to the ground, disappearing into black vapour.

 

“Keep on your toes!” Ignis warns from some distance away, in the midst of taking down a large snake creature with flaming daggers.

 

“Likewise!” Prompto shouts back, pulling the rifle from his back and blazing it’s bullets.

 

They go on like this, the give-and-take between the three of them natural, until suddenly, the daemons are stumbling over themselves.  They seem disoriented, roaring and howling, their booming voices reverberating off the towers of the Citadel, and Prompto blinks in utter confusion.  He stands, watching, exchanging glances on occasion with Gladio and Ignis, who both seem just as confused as he feels.

 

That is, until the slightest crack of sunshine pokes through the towers, causing the daemons to evaporate almost immediately.  Being creatures of the night, they wither quickly in the sun’s light, and it’s bittersweet because while Prompto is relieved the fighting is over, he realizes that it’s the  _ sun _ that’s coming up.

 

For the first time in ten years, the light is shining on the pavement, over the entire city of Insomnia, and, subsequently, over the rest of Eos.

 

Prompto pales some, the weapons in his hands evaporating into nothingness, as he turns towards the towers, seeing the sun slowly creeping up over the horizon, painting the once black sky in oranges and soft pinks.  There’s small clouds floating above them, too, which couldn’t quite be seen in the dark but now were plain as day before their very eyes.

 

There’s a heaviness, utter _silence_ , as Ignis steps up to Prompto’s right side, and soon Gladio on his left, and together, they gaze up at the rising sun.  They feel its warmth, how the rays kiss their faces, and it should feel amazing. It _does_ , but Prompto turns his gaze towards the Citadel, a heaviness settling over him.

 

“He did it,” Gladio murmurs, his voice deep in his chest cavity.

 

Noctis  _ did _ it.  Prompto knows this, not just because of the sun rising, but also because he couldn’t feel the power of the Crystal coursing through him anymore.  His body doesn’t feel as it had only moments ago -- it feels so  _ empty _ .

 

“Noct…” Prompto breathes.

 

A hard lump sits at the base of his neck, making it difficult to breathe, as he steps towards the stairs.  Before he knows it, he’s running, pulling those doors open in a whirlwind and racing towards the elevator. He doesn’t hear anything behind him, but Ignis and Gladio are following him, piling into the elevator nearly at the last second.  It feels like the longest elevator ride, too, as they soar to the level of the throne room. The moment those doors open, Prompto launches out of them.

 

He’s running, still, completely winded, but he doesn’t care.  He has to know. He has to see. He’s barely even paying attention to whatever Ignis and Gladio are shouting at him.  It’s all numbed out noise to his ears as he turns the corner rather sharply, nearly barrelling into the doors that lead to the throne room.

 

Those same doors are practically throne open as Prompto bursts in, stumbling forwards, eyes searching across the great expanse of the throne room.  There’s so much light shining through because of the massive hole in the side of the building, just above where the throne sat. It’s cascading down over boulders and rocks, along the stairs, glittering over the immaculate architecture, and Prompto takes all of it in, every last detail, as his eyes shift towards the throne itself.

 

Sitting there, shrouded in the sun’s light, is Noctis, but not how Prompto remembers him. 

 

He’s sitting so quaintly in that chair, hands on the arm rests, but his shoulders and head are slightly hunched.  The glint of the sun’s light shimmers over the handle and decorum of the Sword of the Father as it’s suspended out of Noctis’ chest, the blade itself is pierced right through, holding Noctis in that spot against the throne.

 

Prompto’s numbly moving up the stairs, feeling as though a haze has come over him.  His face is pale, expression blank. It feels like his imagination is telling lies the closer he gets to the throne, but there’s no denying that the closer he gets, everything he’s seeing is the truth.

 

“Noct?” Prompto tries, but there’s nothing.  Noctis doesn’t even move, not a single finger.  He stays against that chair, lifeless, and Prompto is certain he can see the pointed end of the sword embedded into the cushion on the back of the chair.

 

At first, Prompto’s not able to feel the tears that are trickling down his cheeks, too numb to the subtle sensation.  He’s so focused on what he sees in front of him -- just how truly lifeless his best friend is.

 

Without really thinking, Prompto steps forwards, a hand wrapping around the handle of the sword.  He pulls at it, feeling the tip release from the chair, subsequently moving Noctis’ body a little bit.  A bit of a choked sob escapes Prompto as he reaches out, putting a trembling hand on Noctis’ shoulder to hold him place as he pulls the sword out.  He tosses it to the side, hearing it clank loudly against the rocks, but he’s not paying attention to that. 

 

Noctis’ body sort of slumps forwards, so Prompto gathers him up in his arms and slowly sinks to the floor in front of the chair.  He rotates Noctis so he’s laying properly in Prompto’s lap, blood soaking into his legs, and then watery blue eyes are gazing down at that familiar face.  

 

There’s dirt smudged across Noctis’ cheek, leftover from the battles he shared only a few hours ago with his brothers.  His face looks worn, but there’s a peacefulness to it as Prompto cups along Noctis’ jaw, feeling the soft bristles of his beard underneath his fingertips.

 

“Noct…” Prompto tries again, weakly, his voice cracking, as a couple tear droplets fall onto Noctis’ serene face.  There isn’t anything he wants more than for Noctis to open his eyes, to jump up and pretend that all of this is a joke.  To walk with him out of here and to go about their lives, as they always did.

 

But, there is nothing.

 

So, Prompto lightly brushes a bit of hair off of Noctis’ forehead, then lifts that body so he can press his face into Noctis’ neck.  There’s more tears now, falling like a waterfall onto Noctis, as Prompto violently trembles and heavily cries, the sobs echoing through the room.  Ignis and Gladio are standing nearby, but Prompto can’t bring himself to care, not when, in his arms, lay his best friend. His soul-mate. The only man who ever understood him, gone.

 

How is he supposed to go on from here?  None of the prophecies seemed real, but this is too _tangible_.  This is too much.

 

It seems that Gladio and Ignis understand, though, because they’re crouching around Prompto now;  Gladio has his head hanging, eyes averting, the pain evident in those brown irises; Ignis is unreadable as ever, his gloved hand slowly darting out to envelope Noctis’ hand, while his other hand comes around Prompto’s shoulders.  A comforting gesture, though the sorrow is evident if one pays attention to his pinched eyebrows and the creased frown etching into his face. He may not be able to see, but there’s no doubt he’s feeling the sadness cut through every fibre of his being, just like the rest of them.

 

“You did it, Noct,” Prompto whimpers, lifting his head a little to look back down into that familiar face.  Tears continue to fall as he cups along Noctis' face, settling towards the back of his neck, holding him upright.

 

“You _finally_ did it…”

 

~~

 

Rays of pink and orange cascaded across the sky as the morning sun rose, peeking over the horizon to greet the citizens of Insomnia.  Standing on the balcony to his apartment, Prompto stares out with elbows leaning on the railing, a solemn, yet reflective expression on his face.

 

The light is so bright, and so warm.  It touches his face, kissing it with early sunshine.  It really seems so fitting, knowing how much light Noctis brought into Prompto’s life, right from the old days.  It only makes sense that he’d light the entirety of Eos with that same light.

 

Things had been so much easier back then.

 

Every morning, ever since the light returned to Insomnia, Prompto does this.  He’s always been a morning person, but knowing the sacrifices that went into all this, to letting the world bask in the sun’s rays again, he feels naturally drawn to it’s rays. 

 

“Hey, buddy,” Prompto greets, his voice meek, a fond smile on his lips despite his chin quivering just slightly.

 

Everything Prompto knew had been swept out from under him, but here, in this moment, it’s like everything’s come rushing back.  It’s second nature, now, for him to find his way back to Noctis like this, as if the sun is the only thing that makes him feel connected to the one person who's always mattered the most, even now.

 

“Guess I can’t stop coming back to this,” Prompto chuckles weakly, tipping his head downward.  He only stays like this for a few moments before gazing back up toward the sun.

 

The light never felt so good, knowing the sacrifice Noctis made.  

 

It's the only way Prompto seems to find, to just be kissed by his best friend again.

 

And that's all he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that it's so short, but it's full of feels. SO MANY FEELS.
> 
> Thank you for reading it until the end, though! I appreciate all your support. <3
> 
> Please find me on social media! I'm a friendly person, you can always chat at me. c:
> 
> I'm on twitter and instagram @trirocksalt, so come find me!


End file.
